


a vase of somedays

by kontj (kaguol)



Series: hydrangeas [37]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguol/pseuds/kontj
Summary: wherein atsumu keeps a vase of the many chances he didn’t take.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Series: hydrangeas [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031949
Kudos: 33





	a vase of somedays

The door creaks open, the twinkling of bells heard from across the room. A voice rings out from the back, welcoming Atsumu in. His eyes are met with an assortment of florals, colorful blooms obstructing the view of the few people inside. He takes a deep breath, smiling as an old lady passes him, a tray of tiny plants in her hands.

Heading to the counter, he’s met with an assortment of potted plants and cut stems. Manning it, is the epitome of spring, all warm smiles and kind eyes.

“Welcome to our little cottage! What can I help you with?”

A dust of pink falls upon Atsumu’s face, the thought of a cottage somewhere outside the city and freshly baked bread clouding his vision. He tells you his order, to the dot as his brother requested it. Osamu had told him so many times he’d been singing it in the shower that morning.

“It’s for my brother,” he amends as you begin cutting stems. “He’s hosting a soft opening for his restaurant tonight.”

“Your brother always this meticulous?”

He laughs, the small piece of paper in front of you proof of that. The shop had less people now that it was near closing, but you indulged the faux blond and his very specific order. He tells you of his career in sports, and you tell him of the meaning of the flowers he points out.

With a silken bow and an intricate card, you ring him up, handing him back the sleek black card.

“Oh, and take this!”

Atsumu lights up, accepting the outstretched paper iris. The soft purple was a nice contrast to the sharp tones of the centerpiece, a hint of floral perfume wafting through the air. “What for?”

“Something to remember our little cottage by.”

Atsumu left the shop with a flutter in his chest. You might have given him a parting gift, but the rose on his cheeks and the smile on his lips suggest that this won’t be the last that you’ve seen of him. 

* * *

It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon when Atsumu waltzed back into the flower shop. It was one of the rare occasions where practice had been canceled for a thorough clean. Somewhere in his dashboard drawer was a note that forbade him to enter another gym, and in his pocket is a small sticker that a young fan had given him.

The sticker was a smiling plant, so it was only fitting that he was perusing the aisles for some potted ones. After all, his apartment did need a little bit of greenery.

“Welcome to — oh hey!”

A familiar feeling stirred in his chest, heart skipping a beat as he faced you. You cocked your head to the side, confused at the frigid man who couldn’t help but malfunction.

“Very cottagecore,” he mumbled, words tumbling out of his mouth incautiously. The term spilled out of him awkwardly, reminiscent of the nights spent under the covers, scrolling through the gardening tag of every social media outlet he could find.

You look down, taking in the standard overalls and boots. It had been plain when you received them on your first day, but the little patches here and there were your own touch.

“Did reality live up to the pinterest boards?”

Though flushing red, Atsumu couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh that and _then_ some.”

You laugh along with him, before your eyes catch sight of the plastic cactus in his hand. With a smile, you gesture to it.

The faux blond perks up. “Yeah, I thought the apartment needed something besides me that’s alive.”

Biting back a smile, you hand him an identical one. “You might want this one then.”

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“Well that one isn’t alive either.”

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Atsumu had been somewhat of a regular to the flower shop. He would be driving home and somehow end up in your company, succulent in hand and listening to you talk about the old woman who came in the week before.

“It’s her first date in thirty five years!” you gush, eyes sparkling with excitement. You hands methodically trim and water the plants on display, never once faltering. He’s captivated, how your body moves on its own to do what you love.

He smiles, your voice music to his ears even when the words aren’t quite settling in. He finds himself coming back, with some form of excuse just to chase that high whenever you smile and call out to him.

It wasn’t until he came back home to his twin on the couch, who stood with his arms outstretched did he realize.

His apartment was a jungle — and he _might_ have a crush.

* * *

“Hey, ‘Tsumu!”

The door creaks open, the bell twinkling over head.

At this point it’s almost routine. He opens the door, he pines, he leaves. He talks to his plants at home and gives them names, playing songs you recommended on loop, dissecting every note to get a glimpse of your soul.

There’s a vase of all the non-plant plants sitting on his bedside table: the iris you gave him the first time he stopped over, the plastic cactus that wound itself into the shelves, and the scented lavenders you recommended.

It was a vase of all the somedays he’d collected.

And that someday had finally come.


End file.
